


my body (fluorescent under these lights)

by missgine (blueberry_muffin), SilverCardinal



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, and magic mike homra, but the main is mikorei, cuz i'm always thirsty for mikorei tbh, like you don't even have to read it anymore, more characters will show up eventually, ok so this has strip club/burlesque s4, ok that's it, that's the story, there will probably be more pairings added too, what do i even tag this shit as omg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7347535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberry_muffin/pseuds/missgine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverCardinal/pseuds/SilverCardinal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ladies, gentlemen, are you ready for tonight’s show?”</p><p>“Yes!”</p><p>“Great! Because tonight’s show is ready for you!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	my body (fluorescent under these lights)

**Author's Note:**

> so nothing explicit...yet

 

In.

 

Out.

 

In.

 

Out.

 

Breathe in, breathe out.

 

Take your places (center stage).

 

Pose appropriately (or in this case, perhaps inappropriately would be better).

 

Breathe. Calm down. Swallow down your nerves. Stop thinking and start dancing.

 

The curtain lifts, in three, two, one-

 

 _Boom._ _Boom_. _Boom_.

 

Heavy bass vibrates through the entire club, all the patrons feel it resound through their body, through their blood. The bass streams through the dancers’ bodies, electrifying their nerves, shooting adrenaline through their veins, sweetly rushing, addictive like heroin.

 

Fingers snap away. _Snap. Snap. Snap._

 

Hips sway, legs split, spines arch until they are confused with the bows that adorn shoes, necks, hair.  Bodies twist and flex and spin. Muscles strain and sweat sparkles, glistening in the spotlight. Glitter is thrown and rains down like confetti, attaching itself to sticky skin. Heads are thrown back and tossed; hair flips and sweeps aside with a well-executed flick.

 

Toes are pointed and curled, steeped in platforms, thin stiletto heels clacking along. _Click. Click. Clack._

 

Lips are coyly bitten, mouths open and wetly panting, forming smiles and smirks and sly little “O’s” as body twist and glide and hang. Smoky eyes are lined with liner, sharp wing tips and foxy cat eyes. They smolder in the dim lighting, iris hues flashing like glow-in-the-dark stars, forgettable during the day, but unexplainably hypnotizing at night.

 

Glasses clunk along the bar and on the tables, alcohol is never-endingly poured, cash forever rains, credit cards are constantly swiped, and still the dancers dance.

 

It’s just another night at Scepter 4.

 

-

 

He is sweat, glitter, and glam-and everything Mikoto is not looking for.

 

Mikoto’s here on an errand with Kusanagi, a quick get in, get out sort of thing. He didn’t plan to stay longer than he had too. But he also didn’t mean to look up when the music started playing. Kusanagi just wants to talk to the owner of the club-make a deal per se. Scepter 4 and Homra are the most popular clubs on the strip, and even though clientele differs for both establishments, there is no reason not to have a deal settled between them or a written agreement. (Mikoto knows that the only reason they’re here is because of the busty bouncer Kusanagi has his eye on.)  

 

They’re here only to talk, gather intel at the most; Mikoto certainly didn’t expect his attention to be forcibly grabbed and held captive by the dancer on stage. The dancer with lightning eyes and lithe muscle and legs that went on for days-Mikoto _burns_ just looking at him.

 

-

 

Kusanagi is well aware of the rarity of anything past partial indifference as a response from Mikoto. So it isn’t shocking when Mikoto views the dancers orbiting around them with apathy, just wanting to get what they came for and get out. The scent of tobacco and alcohol are thick in the air, the humidity beading sweat on the scantily clad dancers, all observing them with painted eyes; Mikoto doesn’t bat an eye at them.

 

So, it takes Kusanagi by surprise (surely the planets must have aligned for the expression present on Mikoto’s face) when Mikoto stops, amber eyes illuminated, highlighted by the dim lighting of the club. His mouth opens on reflex, like the first blossoming of a flower, eyes drawn to center stage.

 

It must be the late hour addling Kusanagi’s mind, for he feels uncomfortable bearing witness to Mikoto’s slight loss of composure. There’s something in Mikoto’s gaze and bearing that makes watching him feel like an intrusion; Mikoto’s eyes trace the lines of the dancer’s legs intimately, taking them in as the shore welcomes the sea.  

 

Kusanagi turns away and meets the eyes of just the person he is looking for. “Seri-chan!”

 

The woman looks exasperated as he pulls Mikoto towards where she’s standing, a corner high enough to see throughout the club, low enough to get to where there’s trouble quickly. Mikoto’s body follows his unconsciously as Mikoto’s gaze is still transfixed on the stage.

 

“Seri-chan! It’s good to see you!” Kusanagi smiles.

 

“What are you doing here, Izumo?” She sighs out, eyes focusing a moment longer on his shades; some of the dancers glance their way for a moment slightly too long, before focusing their gazes back on the crowd.

 

“So cold! Down to business as usual I see. I’ll have you know that I want to arrange a meeting with your boss.”

 

“My boss is currently unavailable.” Awashima says, amusement sparkling in her eyes.

 

“Oh, come _on_ Seri-chan! I’m sure Munakata-san can give us a few minutes.”

 

“No, he can’t. He’s currently busy-”

 

“What could he possibly be busy with?”

 

Awashima will later deny the fond roll of her eyes and the quick quirk of her lips as she nods towards the stage. “He’s performing.”

 

Mikoto’s eyes snap towards Awashima’s, who only raises an eyebrow in return; his gaze quickly returns to Munakata. Kusanagi sputters for a moment before he too turns his gaze to center stage.

 

-

 

Reisi places his hands on his knees, closes his eyes, and arches his back; he’s sitting in a wooden chair, sturdy and simple. He rolls his head around, slow and sensual, feels the muscles in his neck relax and contract, feels his breath release from his lungs, up his throat, and out from between his lips, wet.  

 

He feels the stares of the audience pin pricking his skin, feels the lust, the envy, the awe pierce the air like arrows, and he, the target. Reisi would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the attention payed to him; how could he not? It’s almost _too_ easy, Reisi thinks, to hypnotize the crowd, to get them caught up in his movements, to dazzle them with his words, to take their breath away with a smile. The rush of power is like lightning, thundering through his veins, sparking at his fingertips.

 

Reisi observes the crowd languidly, habitually reading the expressions on their faces like text from a book: a balding middle aged man sitting near the stage with perspiration dampening his brow, his shoulders slouching as far forward as possible, jaw open, eyes hungry. There is a young woman, in the far back corner, staring at the stage with amazement, stars in her eyes and wonder curving her mouth. There is a businessman sitting up front and center, posture cocky, eyes gazing at Reisi’s dancers like trophies, the woman at his side sniffing disdainfully, lips pursed and arms crossed.

 

The audience is filled with different sets of people each night, but Reisi knows they’re all the same.

 

But not tonight.

 

Tonight, Reisi feels a gaze on him that he’s never felt before. It brands him, burns him, fire licking its way through his skin, down his spine, and settling in the deep recesses of his stomach. It’s hot. Flame flickers down Reisi’s arms, spreads down his legs until the smoke and fumes fill his lungs and he’s breathless from the intensity.

 

His eyes flick up and meet gleaming amber.   

  


**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry


End file.
